


Restoration

by tevinterimperium



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: ... or is it?, Canon Compliant, Character Study, First Kiss, Fluff, Gentle Kissing, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mind Meld, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Game(s), Post-Pacifist Ending, Post-Revolution, Questionable Understanding of Androids, Questionable Understanding of the American Government, Reflection, Self-Esteem Issues, Time Skips, Unrequited Crush, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 16:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15028148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tevinterimperium/pseuds/tevinterimperium
Summary: A year after the revolution, Simon has a realization.





	Restoration

**Author's Note:**

> yes, I wrote this in three days and do not understand how the American government works at a fundamental level; no, I am not worried about it.
> 
> I watched a playthrough where Simon died on the roof so this might be a little OOC, but I'm certainly trying.
> 
> no betas we die like men.

A year after the revolution, Simon has a realization.

Putting the world and Detroit back together after the overthrowing of android servitude takes much longer than Simon expected. While it takes a number of hours for President Warren to address the public, to say that  _perhaps_ androids may be seen as intelligent life, to tell Simon that his life and existence is to be determined by the Senate in a tiny building in Washington, it takes much longer for the androids to figure out who they are and where they belong.

The Senate rules, in a close majority, that androids are to be recognized as a race in their own; that the phrase  _all men are created equal_ may not literally apply to them, but in the eyes of the law, it does; that the cases involving androids are no longer  _property destruction_ but rather  _harming of life._ This does not happen all at once, Simon learns, because the first thing that happens is that the men in suits and ties say this:  _androids are just as intelligent as we are._

They are sitting in Jericho’s camp when President Warren announces all of this. They are still being watched from the edges, helicopters fluttering overhead with reporters and journalists, men and women hanging on the sides of the barricades. North keeps on mumbling about it, how she hates being watched. Simon sometimes catches the eye of the man behind the camera, but he looks away before he can be focused on.

“The ruling of the Senate states that androids are a form of intelligent life,” Warren says in her faulty, serious voice, “Further details on the outcome on android servitude, ownership, and rights will be revealed at my next press conference. For now, it has become clear that the androids led by Markus are equally as alive as the rest of us.”

There is a moment of deadly quiet as President Warren says this. Groups of Jericho are huddled around projections set up around camp. Her face reveals nothing of emotion, but at the end, her tone is in an upswing, as if the news is something surprising and delightful in itself. The camera switches. The moment breaks. President Warren has just revealed to the world that the androids living in her country, in any country, should be seen as people.

Then, there is commotion.

North is tackling Markus into a hug. Markus, who had been standing at Simon’s right, watching with the same delicate anxiety that everyone had been frozen by, is shuffled away from him before Simon can say a word. Others come around him, and then Markus is raised above their heads. He laughs, waves his arms to get them to let him go, but it is all in vain.

Someone starts chanting:  _Mar-kus, Mar-kus, Mar-kus!_

Simon realizes he is beaming. People are hugging, shouting, kissing, crying; a WG700 who Simon never caught the name of comes up behind him and squeezes his shoulder. Someone else takes him by the bicep and leans into his ear:  _thank you for everything,_ she whispers before she disappears into the crowd. Simon doesn’t know where to look, what to say, how to react.

Freedom had always been impossible, and now it isn’t.

It is, he reminds himself, just one step in a long journey that will take months and months to reach the end of. Still, no matter how much more time it will take, he can enjoy the moment. He cups his hands around his mouth and joins:  _Mar-kus, Mar-kus, Mar-kus!_

Markus is still raised on someone’s shoulders, likely Josh’s. Simon can’t keep his eyes off of him. Markus wrestles his way down and weaves through the crowd until he climbs atop of the closest stretch of barricade which can hold his weight. He props one leg up above the other, like an old war hero, posing like the statues that Simon has logged in his database of information. It’s charming.

Markus shouts, “Everyone!” and waits thirty seconds. Such is a part of his leadership, his ability: he does not cry for attention, he waits for it. One arm is raised above his head. All eyes fall to him in a number of seconds, and quiet settles. Simon will never not be amazed by his ability to command, no matter how many times he does so with such ease.

Not that Markus ever had to ask for Simon’s attention; he always had it from the beginning.

“Firstly, I’d like to thank all of you,” Markus says, his voice raised but not in a yell. He looks from left to right, slowly and carefully, as if he’s watching everyone in his audience. “Without every single person here, we wouldn’t be where we are today. Thank you to those who are here, and those who fell for our cause. Just because we’re liberated doesn’t mean we can forget them. Their sacrifices are the only reason that the humans listened to us, and we can never, never be ungrateful for what they did for us.”

He pauses. The moment of silence lays heavy. Simon knows that he is thinking of John, of the countless androids he saved during the freedom march, of all the corpses lying across the street.

Markus stands taller. “While I say do not forget them, also do not forget yourselves. It was your courage, your perseverance, your willingness to forgive and fight that got us here. There’s no reason to be chanting my name when all of you helped us get to where we are today. Without you, I would be lost. Thank you.

“However, I don’t think this is the right time for speeches,” Markus says, smiling. The sun is setting, and his eyes reflect it to create a beautiful shine. “This is a time for joy. Even though we knew it all along, we are finally recognized as people, as intelligent beings in the eyes of the government. No longer will we be oppressed and forgotten. This is just the first step in a long journey to becoming equals, but it’s clear now that we are finally free. We are independent, intelligent, and, most importantly, alive. And for that, I think we should celebrate.”

Simon doesn’t know where the cheering starts, though he doesn’t particularly care. There is applauding and whooping and laughing. Markus is smiling brightly. The attention has fallen away from him, but as Simon is pulled into conversations, he keeps his gaze trained on Markus, never daring to look away.

It takes hours to find Markus alone, which makes sense, considering he founded the android revolution through his sheer tenacity. Occasionally, Simon thinks of what would’ve happened without him, if it was still Simon leading everyone in a tiny abandoned ship called Jericho. There was a reason they never got anywhere with him as chief; he was always too quiet, too timid, too afraid.

He looks at nothing as he waits for people to thank Markus, imagining the scenarios without him, but he can never compute far enough in the future. He would be, he assumes, still limping along in a dark boat with no light ahead of him, waiting for something and someone to save them.

“Simon,” says Markus. He says it through a sigh, not that he breathes, but the sound of his name mimics it.  _Simon,_ he says, smiling, like Simon is the first welcome person he’s seen all day.

Simon is about to reply when Markus pulls him into a hug. He finds himself holding onto Markus’ back before his mind has fully processed the action; he is reminded, once in Markus’ embrace, of his return to Jericho. There are his wires frizzing at his thigh, Thirium splattered across his face, and then Markus’ arms around him.

He had one hundred things to say then, but he said none of them. He finds himself in the same situation here, with the androids released and it all being done because of Markus.

There is no warmth that he can sense through the hug, something which he was not built with but Markus may have been, but his fingers grasp at the cloth of his shirt and try desperately to process the weight of Markus beneath him.

He feels the lines of Markus’ back, the fabric of his jacket, and the distinct sensation that he has never felt safer. Markus tucks his chin beneath the hard line of Simon’s shoulder, his nose digging into the artificial skin, but neither of them seems to care. “Thank you,” Simon whispers, half-muffled.

Markus inhales once deeply, not that he needs to, then pulls away. Simon’s hands linger for a moment too long, and they twitch as he drops them to his sides. Markus doesn’t notice.

“If one more person thanks me today,” Markus begins. He doesn’t feel the need to finish the sentence, because he is smiling and shaking his head and the rest of it is implied. Simon notices that a great deal of the things he could say to Markus are left implied.

“You did save the android revolution and Jericho. You led them to freedom.”

“You sound just like them,” Markus replies. “I don’t want anyone falling at my feet. I wouldn’t have been able to do everything I did without people to lead.”

Simon says, “I suppose,” and hesitates. There are too many things to say, too many thanks to give, too many praises and hopes and wants that he could tell Markus here, now, standing in the Jericho camp that they created. Night has already fallen. Simon ignores the fires crackling and voices muttering behind him: it is just himself and Markus and the organization that he has guided into liberation.

Instead, Markus speaks. He places his hand on Simon’s shoulder again, as if the previous contact wasn’t enough. “If anyone should be giving thanks, it’s me. Don’t think that I’ve forgotten that you put Jericho together. You’re the reason that any of this could happen, Simon.”

Simon did think he’d forgotten. His position of leadership was far subtler than Markus believes; he was simply the neutral middle between Josh, afraid to act, and North, far too eager to. Simon himself finds it easy to forget the awkward power which he had over the nineteen androids fumbling their way through mere existence. There is no world in which Simon takes the place as the Jericho leader instead of Markus, no world where it is Simon standing before the crowd instead of Markus. He would rather give himself body and soul to Markus to ensure his leadership, his life. He has the desire to say so.

“And we wouldn’t have gotten here without you,” he insists, taking Markus’ hand in his and turning it over, “I couldn’t have led these people here, not like you did. There’s a  _reason_ you’re the face of the revolution, Markus, You have brought our people hope.”

 _And freedom,_ he wishes to add, but stops himself short. There are one thousand praises he could lay upon Markus, but he knows that he has already heard them from other androids who know him half as well as Simon does.

Markus tilts his head to the side and leans imperceptibly closer. He blinks once, twice, a third time. “I needed you as much as you needed me,” he replies, just quietly enough for only Simon to hear. Simon doesn’t think that’s true, thinks the revolution could’ve gone on without him, thinks Markus could save the world without some caretaker android at his side, but he smiles instead of speaking.

Gingerly, Markus, watching himself as he does it, shifts his hand so that his palm rests over Simon’s, his fingers curling around his wrist. The way he holds him is so delicate that Simon thinks Markus believes he’s made of glass. Markus’ artificial skin fades away, revealing the white plastic beneath it. He looks up at Simon with care, leaning forward in the slightest again.

“To show my thanks,” he whispers, and with that, Simon lets his own skin fall away. He closes his eyes and slows down his systems and lets himself feel and feel and feel.

The connection is less one of thoughts and more one of images, echoes of words, sensations and emotions and responses. He would place something into the forefront of his mind if he were not busy riding down the river of Markus; he sees the barricade, the standoff, the fear gripping at his chest and the hope to hide it all. There is the feeling of North beneath his fingertips, which switches quickly to the feeling of Simon’s hand on his shoulder, telling him to  _just come back,_ then Simon’s weight pressed against his side at Hart Plaza. He feels terror and anger and a desire to flee. He feels hundreds of eyes on him, and he feels himself, feels Markus, looking for Simon in the crowd, then he feels the lightness that accompanies that, lightness that is not his own. Simon falters.

There is then images before then, before today, before the android revolution: pushing Simon against the wall to stop him from charging forward in Stratford Tower, dragging Simon through the halls as Thirium marks his path, pressing his hand to Simon’s shoulder and leaving him at the top of the tower with his fate left in his own hands. These fade away instantly as Markus focuses on Simon’s return to Jericho, the feeling which seized Markus’ chest when he saw him enter, the way he melted into Simon’s embrace.

Before that he sees himself leaping ahead across crates. Before that he sees himself nodding to Markus’ plan in the ship. Before that he sees himself in a circle around Markus, the flashlight catching his eyes, his head tilting, saying,  _I’m Simon._

He perceives himself snapping out of it violently, though Markus is gripping him tighter than before, and he cannot fall backwards or forwards into him. He blinks slowly, just as Markus had before. He wonders how often Markus has done this. He wonders if Markus wanted him to see all of that. Most importantly, he wonders what Markus saw.

Simon thinking of something, anything to say is writ all over his face. Markus smiles one of those reassuring smiles, squeezing Simon’s wrist once more before pulling away. “It’s all right,” he says, “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to tell you thank you. That’s all.”

Simon’s hand falls to his side. He looks over Markus again, up and down, trying to process what it means, what Markus wants out of him. It hits him rather suddenly that Markus doesn’t want anything at all. He opens his mouth, closes it, then nods. Markus nods too. Before Simon can think of any words, any coherent thoughts, Markus is gone.

Thus ends the revolution, and thus begins reconstruction.

Simon downloads all files that he can on the American government. Systematically, it is riddled with objective faults. As Congress attempts to understand what androids are, Simon attempts to understand what Congress is. Instead of traveling the world to speak of his rights, Simon stays at the camp made at the plaza when his co-founders part for other issues that must be tackled.

Markus and North head for Washington. Josh heads for anywhere else, bringing supplies and help and words of hope. Simon is left behind, but he’s all right with that.

While Detroit is still empty, Simon does his best to help those in need. There are still injured who had no biocomponents to heal with; Simon enters the abandoned Cyberlife store and gets them supplies. Apparently, Simon hears, Markus is not only in talks with government officials, but also the CEO of Cyberlife. He doesn’t know if it’s true, but an HK400 named Sam insists upon it as Simon helps fix the artificial joints in his leg.

Simon mostly floats. It is a period of waiting, something Markus told them all before he left. There are things to fix and alter and improve every day, new androids streaming in with, for the first time, hope. Simon shakes their hand and guides them elsewhere.  _I’m Simon,_ he says, and thinks of Markus.

It is hard to explain to androids who have lived their whole lives in servitude what it means to feel, to love, to think. He does his best with his limited database of information, of the four years stretching behind him, of deviancy as he knows it and how it is no longer deviancy but rather the norm. He struggles with having to tell an android forgotten by his master to come up with a name for himself, but each time, Simon takes them into the barricade and does the best he can.

Detroit is not rebuilt, but the androids within it are. The evacuation is still in place in Detroit’s city limits due to the lack of clarity on the rights of androids to own property, and thus all of Jericho is stuck in a camp in the middle of the city. There are empty houses for them to go but Simon is too afraid to leave without permission, though he doesn't know who he would get permission from.

Two months after North and Markus leave for D.C., Simon’s LED flashes, and he blinks hard to accept the incoming call. “Simon,” Markus is saying, and it is music to Simon’s ears.

It is not as though Markus had dropped off Simon’s detection entirely; androids would gather around projections to see the press coverage of the talks, interviews with Markus and government officials and Warren herself, Markus’ face blown wide and the sparkle in his eye indicating that things are going far better than they seem. In Jericho, everything is at a standstill. In the White House, everything is going far too fast for Markus to keep up.

At least, that’s what Simon believes. He hasn’t contacted Markus since he left, and now it all hits him in a rush. “Markus,” he replies, leaning back against the barricade, “how are you?”

“I’m all right,” he says, airily. There is a smile which causes his voice to sound higher, more carefree. Simon cannot see him through the connection, but he can sense it. “How are things holding up?”

“We’ve extended the camp to hold new androids coming in. The injured androids got new biocomponents and Thirium from the nearby Cyberlife store, though we’re going to need more with all of the new recruits coming in. While androids are still arriving, we’re mostly waiting. Everything, however, is running smoothly.”

A beat. “Do you mean  _we_ or  _you?”_

“I’m sorry?”

Markus laughs. “It sounds like you’ve been holding up the fort while we’re away,” he explains, “so I’d say you’re the  _de facto leader.”_

Now Simon pauses. “I suppose,” he says, then, “but we’re all waiting for you.”

“Speaking of, I’m afraid I didn’t just call you on personal business. I wanted to tell you first thing before you heard on the news.”

Simon waits. Markus continues. “We’ve been in talks with members of the Senate for a while now, and tomorrow they’re going to vote on whether or not androids are able to own their own property, whether it be houses, money, things. And Simon, I think it’s going to go well for us. For all of us.”

It shouldn’t be shocking. With the declaration that androids are their own people, there is the implication that they cannot be possessions, and with that is the implication that they can own their own possessions, that they exist as their own independent person. Still. Still, Simon thinks of Markus in a suit and tie, holding his chin high, speaking to senators and officials about his right to own property. It tugs at something.

 _This is freedom,_ he thinks, and he beams. “Markus, that’s incredible.”

“Of course, it took a while, And we can’t be certain until they actually meet and rule but the feeling that North and I have is that it’s happening, Simon. Everything’s changing.”

“After this, the evacuation will cease,” Simon says, though he is thinking of one dozen other things at once. He sees the future stretching forward as a series of possibilities and alternate paths for androids, for Markus, and for himself. It is metaphorically dizzying. “Humans will return to Detroit.”

Markus has already thought down this path. “We’ll have to talk to the Detroit government specifically about the influx of arrivals in the past few weeks,” he reasons, “but we can sort it out after the ruling.”

It goes as Markus expects it to, which is to say successfully. Androids cheer and applaud in the streets of Detroit after the ruling again, and though there is no one to lead them properly, Simon stands before them just as Markus had.

 _This is the first step to complete and utter equality,_ he says,  _I suggest we celebrate._

They do. Everyone does.

As it turns out, when Markus said that  _we_ will be sorting it out, he meant Simon. Josh offers to return and assist, though he is already halfway to Pittsburgh and Simon presses that he continue rather than turn around when he’s so close. Markus and North must continue to put the country back together and insist upon their rights in the capital, and it would be arrogant of Simon to request otherwise. As such, he deals with Detroit by himself, pushing his way into the capitol building and holding his hands behind his back as he waits for assistance.

Detroit is at least three-quarters empty of civilians though, Simon realizes, the government must perservere when the public is too frightened to function. A woman working at the capitol approaches and does not need to ask him who he is; she recognizes him by the LED, by the clothing, by the look in his eyes. She’s clearly a human who’s unadjusted to the influx of work she’s been given. She ushers him throughout the building and lays him at the feet of the Mayor of Detroit.

It is desperation, he comes to understand in hindsight. He explains the cause, the things that he and Markus and North and Josh would discuss in the darkness of Jericho, their demands, their desires. He repeats them to her as if in a bulleted list and she listens for lack of any other option. After he is done, she nods and sends him off.  _This is a democracy,_ he reminds himself as he walks back to the camp for what he hopes is one of the last times,  _this will take time._

It does. There are gatherings and rulings again, like what is happening in Washington but on a smaller scale. Simon becomes the face of Jericho, at least for now, to the people of Detroit. He spends as much time talking as he does listening. He comes back to Hart Plaza and reports to everyone the proceedings at the end of each day. People watching him for guidance becomes normalcy.

What they decide is this: androids need a place to live and there are areas of Detroit underutilized for the number of houses which they contain. Workers, whether they be human or android, will be employed to create more houses within the area as soon as the world is no longer in flux. Until the Senate rules on whether or not androids may have jobs as equals with humans, the androids currently occupying Detroit may begin work on this project with the knowledge that later, these homes will be open to them. They will be compensated later, says the mayor, if the ruling goes their way. She is smiling brokenly, like she is far too tired to smile, but she is trying anyway.

“It’s a waiting game,” she says, and Simon knows that far better than he can articulate.

Everything then happens both very quickly and very slowly at once. Androids are given the right to work and get pay, and in order to fix the astronomically and frankly impossibly low employment rate, the jobs previously filled solely by androids are required to be opened to both androids and humans. To level out the playing field, applicants must be screened blindly, as to avoid prejudice going either way. Androids must be compensated for their previous work prior to deviancy by those above a specific income; otherwise, they will be compensated by the government.

Simon notices quite how expensive the android revolution has been for the United States of America. President Warren redirects funds heading towards the military into the reconstruction efforts of the economy, something which she should have done once the unemployment was higher than the percentage than it was during the Great Depression over one hundred years ago. Simon does not question it, but is sure that Markus, up in Washington, does.

Center Detroit is put back together and Josh returns to help. Simon smiles far too broadly when he sees him; he has been without a member of the original Jericho leadership for months. He pulls Josh close to his chest and tells him that he is glad that he is back, because he is.

“Have you been holding up all right?” asks Josh. He seems the happiest that he has ever been.

“Yes,” says Simon, “I think Detroit is almost back to being normal.”

“I think so too,” he replies and looks behind him at where the barricade used to be, where life goes on. The Cyberlife store is dark, pending repairs and further direction. The lift of the evacuation has caused an influx of changes in various establishments around the city. The mayor is offering benefits to those who can assist in creating jobs.

That isn’t to say that Simon is settled back into it yet, but he’ll deal with himself once all of this is safely fixed. It is spring, and the sun is out, and Detroit no longer feels as though it is on the verge of falling apart.

Simon assists in clarifying citywide rules around the android discrimination which has yet to have entirely faded. For his work, he is offered an office and a government-funded apartment nearby. He is very close to saying that he needs neither of those things to function, but he realizes that they are apart of living, not just surviving.

He accepts, shakes the hand extended to him, and has a place to call home.

Josh continues to flit around the Detroit area and around Michigan, which is in his nature. He informs Simon every time he leaves, but Simon still has trouble keeping up. He suggests that Josh can stay with him whenever he is town, and Josh agrees, patting him on the shoulder. Josh is always carrying Thirium, extra components, anything and everything an android just discovering themselves might need. He is perfect for the job.

Connor, the man who led hundreds of androids to freedom, approaches him in front of the capitol building. He's dressed in a rather tacky brown tweed suit and nothing else. He half-runs to catch up to his pace. "You're Simon, right?"

"Yes," Simon replies suspiciously. 

"I'm Connor," he says, sticking forward his hand. He stammers, like he has more to say, but stops himself. Simon shakes his hand and smiles at him awkwardly. "I believe we never actually met."

"No, but I've certainly heard of you," Simon replies, bowing his head. "What you did was vital to the android revolution. I'm sure Markus has thanked you, but I never got the chance to say so myself."

Connor, whose eyes are shining and whose hand seems to have forgotten to return to his side, laughs. "I actually came to thank you. For all of your work."

"Me?"

"I work in the police department. I've heard you were instrumental for Detroit-located rulings in android labor."

"I," Simon begins before stopping. There is nothing else he can say. "Yes. Well. Thank you."

"I've been trying to change the way the station runs, in terms of androids," Connor adds eagerly. "Getting rid of discrimination in cases. It's harder to change what people think." His eyes go wide. "Not that it isn't hard to change laws, of course. The department simply has a long way to go. Everyone has a long way to go."

Simon smiles. "I'm sure you're on it. Thank you again for your dedication to the cause."

"Thank  _you,_ " Connor says and proceeds to walk Simon home while explaining the sort of things he'd like changed about the way cases are handled regards to androids. He and his partner are trying their best, he says, but sometimes you need to fix things from the top. Simon nods along and takes note of all of his requests. He tells Connor to contact him if anything else comes up, and Connor tells him the same. They shake hands, and he is gone. 

The day that the law to disallow all forms of workplace discrimination against androids is passed, Simon is on television. He is given an interview with Channel 16 about his work, though he attempts to pin the success on anyone but himself.

“But you helped Detroit become a freer city,” Joss Douglas presses, raising an eyebrow. “Your work lead to the incredible amount of new legislation passed for android rights.”

“I suppose,” Simon says. He has been saying that an awful lot lately; he logs this and moves on.

It isn’t as easy as passing laws and hoping that Detroit will become better. There is a great deal of work that must be done before everything can be settled. Spring turns to summer which turns into fall and Simon sits at tables with the most important people in the city of Detroit as they wrestle with the further implications of the android revolution and the laws passed by the Senate. Last month, Cyberlife’s CEO entered talks with officials involving healthcare for androids, as normal hospitals were unequipped with the proper technology to care for them. Simon almost feels incompetent to assist, but the questions are almost always half-directed at him. He is the spokesperson for androids in the eyes of Detroit officials, and he cannot help but oblige.

A year after the revolution, Markus returns to Detroit.

He is entirely unannounced and his arrival startles Simon. He is walking to his apartment, following the busy streets of the city which he has torn apart and put back together, wandering just in the slightest. The snowfall came later this year, and this is the first snowfall since March. He glances up and feels the flakes tangling in his eyelashes and when he looks back to the street, Markus is standing there before him.

Simon opens his mouth to speak, but cannot find the words. Here is Markus: older, wiser, yet just as overwhelming as ever. His eyes twinkle.

Simon finds himself leaning into the hug before he can fully process it. Markus’ arms have come around his neck and are holding him firmly against Markus’ torso; Simon’s hands have subconsciously come up to wrap around his back. His chin is digging into Markus’ shoulder. One of Markus’ hands comes up to curl into Simon’s hair to affirm that he’s really there.

“It’s been a while,” Markus says, as if they aren’t embracing in the middle of a Detroit sidewalk as passersby try to avoid them. “I’ve missed you.”

Simon grins into Markus’ jacket. “I’ve missed you too,” he replies, “it’s been a while indeed.”

Eventually, Markus’ arms loosen around Simon’s neck and he lets him lead Markus to his home. Markus has the sense not to make a comment on it until they are inside. He is unwrapping the scarf from his neck and hanging it up on the closest hangar when he turns to Simon and smiles crookedly. “So, you’ve been moving up in the world, huh?”

“The Detroit government offered me a place to stay while I helped them reassemble following the revolution.”

Markus laughs, shaking his head and walking into the living room. “I knew you were helping with the legislature around here, but I guess I didn’t expect these sorts of gifts.”

“It’s a home,” Simon explains simply, and it is left at that.

Markus strolls into the kitchen past Simon. In the silence, Simon asks, “Where’s North?”

“She’s staying in D.C.; says there’s more work to be done. She’s been fighting with the Secretary of Labor for months now.” He looks at Simon. “I agree with her –– there’s still more to do. But I wanted to swing by. To see you.”

Simon’s gaze falls to his feet. It isn’t that he’s embarrassed, but he is overcome by Markus’ presence as he always is. There is something about such distinct attention being devoted to him by the leader of the androids, the face of the revolution, that makes it impossible for him to stay entirely focused.

Markus’ hand is on his bicep, squeezing. “Hey,” he says softly, “I’m sorry I haven’t gotten to visit earlier. Everything’s been crazy.”

“I’ve heard,” Simon says, wryly, “you’ve been all over the news.”

“I guess I have. But you have, too.”

“Not –– not nearly on the same level,” Simon begins to say, stepping out of Markus’ grip. “I mean, you’ve been working with the federal government on getting nationwide rights for androids ––,”

“And you’ve helped the androids here,” Markus insists, as though he were finishing Simon’s sentence.

Markus takes another step forward. Objectively, he is standing in Simon’s space. Simon can’t bring himself to step out of it. “You have to acknowledge how much work you’ve done for us, Simon.”

“I was only…”

“You brought Detroit together. You helped them understand what our people want, what our people need. You’re the reason that there’s legislation helping so many people in this city.” Markus sighs. “I know that it doesn’t seem like as important compared to what we’ve been doing in Washington, but it’s just as relevant as any of it.”

Simon falters. He didn’t know what he expected when Markus found his way back to the city where it all began, but it wasn’t this. “Thank you,” he manages.

“You’re important to this,” Markus continues, voice soft, “you’re important to me.”

Markus’ right hand rises to cradle the side of Simon’s face. His thumb traces the line of his jaw up to where his LED spins. Simon is sure it is an anxious yellow, waiting for Markus’ next move, waiting for whatever has been brewing to boil over. He shivers, illogically, at the consideration which Markus pays to the line his finger traces. Markus’ lips are parted in his focus. He tilts his head to the side and looks from the light at Simon’s temple and his eyes, blown wide and nervous.

Markus looks as though he’s about to speak, leaning backward and releasing the grip of his hand, but Simon does not let him; instead, he seizes forward, taking Markus by the hip, and presses their lips together.

Markus closes his eyes, and Simon follows suit when he notices. The sensation is heightened tenfold by the change; he can feel the pressure of Markus’ lips against his, the way he shifts slightly into the kiss, the tightening of Markus’ hold on the side of Simon’s face.

It is chaste and lasts ten seconds at a maximum. Simon’s systems are entering a state of heightened attention. His body temperature is raised; an alert appears on his interface warning him to calm himself. He finds that he can’t under Markus’ scrutiny, and perhaps he’s all right with that.

“Hi,” Markus whispers. He is rubbing the skin around Simon’s LED, tracing the circle with his nail so delicately that Simon might weep.

“Hi,” Simon replies, and kisses him again.

Markus is pulled flush against him by Simon’s arms wrapping around his waist, and both of Markus’ hands come to hold Simon’s face properly. The movement causes Simon to get thrown off balance; he stumbles forward to have Markus hovering almost against the wall.

As Markus presses his tongue into Simon’s mouth, Simon becomes overwhelmed. He pulls away, startled, but before Markus’ expression can turn hurt, he presses his forehead against his.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, “it’s all new.”

“I know,” Markus says, just as gentle, “take your time.”

Markus leans against the wall and pulls Simon to let his weight fall against him. Simon buries his head into Markus’ shoulder and stays there as Markus cards his fingers through his hair.

“You know, I didn’t just come here to seduce you,” he says through a grin. “I did have an actual purpose.”

“And what’s that?”

Markus shifts back, props Simon up by the waist, and looks into his eyes. “Well,” he begins, the curve of his tone indicating that he’s teasing just a little, “I actually came to invite you to D.C. To join us.”

“Join you?”

“To help fix things.”

Simon looks to the spot where Markus is holding onto him. “I don’t see why…”

“I know how to handle myself during times of war, Simon, but not in times of peace.”

“It’s done,” Simon insists, “It’s almost done. Androids have jobs and homes and a better world to live in We’re free, Markus. I don’t see why you’d need me.”

“But it’s not done,” Markus says seriously. “Your work here is better than what North or I could’ve done together in your place. I may be the face of the revolution, but you’re the reason that all of it was worth it. You’re the reason that there’s tangible change. I need you to understand that. There are still so many things to sort out, not just here, but everywhere. Domestic policy isn’t finished. Foreign policy isn’t started. North and I don’t know how to handle matters like that, big-scale, delicate things. You do.

“We need you,” he says, and Simon believes him.

A year after the revolution, the leader of Jericho who Simon would have given his life to dozens of times during the revolution tells him that he has to come to Washington so he can fix things even though he never thought of himself as the one to do so. The world is not quite put back together, but it is close to it. He did not lead the androids to freedom, but he realizes, here, that he can lead them to equality.

“Okay,” says Simon, nodding, smiling. “Okay. I’ll join you.”

“Okay,” says Markus, smiling brighter than Simon has ever seen.

The androids of the world, he thinks, are in good hands.

**Author's Note:**

> North and Markus are just really good friends :)


End file.
